


A Synaesthetic Detective Walks Into a Bar...

by scoured



Category: Top Ten (Comic)
Genre: Character of Color, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoured/pseuds/scoured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Synaesthesia is made a surprising offer at a Neopolis bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Synaesthetic Detective Walks Into a Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between Season One and Season Two.

The bar smelled like several colors at once, hovering in a nimbus around the patrons as they went about their drinking and socializing. At one table a group of women were having what looked like a raucous bachelorette party, one of them turning various articles of clothing invisible while the others cheered her on. Wedged at a table in one corner a mud creature sat gazing forlornly into its tankard of slime and clay minerals. Overhead, patrons under the influence of Up, Up and Away! were hovering just under the bright ceiling lights in the designated floating zone. One clumsily spilled her drink on the people below, only to have it pour directly into the mouth of a young man who sounded like the tocsin of a bell and therefore was probably a precog.

She made her way through the crowd, insulated from their inanities by the funk of depression that surrounded her like cigarette smoke. It had been another hard day at the precinct, but then all days had been hard since Commissioner Ultima's rampage had put Slinger in the hospital and Girl One into an early, undeserved grave. At the end of every day, Syn wanted nothing more than to numb her senses until sight and sound and taste and energy and thought and tactility blurred together and she didn't have to sift them out.

At the bar, she considered talking the bartender into letting her have a shot of Ad Infinitum, the beer created for those whose healing abilities prevented them from being able to get drunk. In college, when it had first hit the market, she'd done a shot on a Friday night and been tipsy for the entire weekend. That had been before concerned citizen groups and the conventional beer industry got it banned for all except those with actual healing factors.

"Can I help you?" asked the busy young woman tending the bar. She had on enormous cerulean rubber gloves, goggles and a white apron that declared "The Gal-Chemist".

"I think I'll just have a martini," she said. "Do you have Bombay Star Sapphire?" The young woman nodded and went to work flipping switches, activating electrodes and swishing alcohol.

"That'll be ten dollars," Gal-Chemist said. "Or do you want to start a tab?"

"How about you put it on my tab," a voice said over Synaesthesia's shoulder. It sounded like the warmth of wax candles and she turned to face the speaker, almost magnetically. He stood easily near her, a white man dressed in a white button-down shirt and tie, business slacks and shined shoes. No cape, no tights, no boots, no enormous headpiece that made walking through doorways difficult. He resembled the comic book character Business Man, right down to the carefully slicked back hair.

"I can pay for my own drink," she told him, sliding her card across to the bartender, who took it without comment. He gave her a charming grin.

"Of course," he said. "I just noticed you, by yourself, ordering a truly classic drink," he hoisted his own martini glass. "I thought maybe you'd be interested in a little bit of company.

Syn opened her mouth to deflect him. She'd tried the bar dating scene once and it hadn't gone well. Then again, she'd even tried dating Smax and that had gone even worse. Looking around, she saw drinks that smoked and shot flames, drinks that sputtered and hissed, drinks made from glowing energy and drinks made from fluorescent goop. Sprinkled about were only a few bottles of beer and most of those could induce levitation or intangibility. She decided she could use a little bit of human company, something separate from the mingled pity and blame that she felt hanging about her at the precinct.

"Perhaps," she said. He smiled again and her senses flared all at once. Blue eyes like tomorrow, clean smile, that warm waxen voice. This Business Man was dangerous and she needed to be careful.

"Please help me find a table, then," he said, waving towards the rear of the bar. "My name's Jack."

"Wanda," she said, impressed that he hadn't given her an A.E. They managed to find a table squished in between the mud creature and a very hairy, very drunk little man who smelled Canadian.

They chatted over their martinis and the heavy rock blasting out of the speakers. He didn't ask her about her powers, not at first. It was a refreshing change of pace. When people found out she was a police officer, they generally assumed she could grow into a giant version of herself or shoot lasers from her eyes or punch lawbreakers through buildings. She could do none of that, and when it had mattered all she could do was cry out as Li saved her and died in the attempt. Jack didn't ask about her powers or her job, he kept the conversation on more neutral ground, asking about her interests and her goals, the kinds of things you asked people when you wanted to get to know them.

So, after a second martini, she asked him instead. "Forgive me for saying this, Jack, but you... don't seem like you're from around here." She waved her martini glass vaguely at his outfit. The Canadian stumbled past, scratching his spandex.

"The same could be said of you," he laughed. He held his hands palms up. "All right, I'll give. I dress this way because I don't exactly have much of a power."

"Really?" she asked. Jack was becoming more and more interesting to her. "What is it then, exactly?"

"Well," he said. "I'm a teleporter." He paused for that to sink in and she thought about telling him that he was full of shit. Teleportation was one of the showiest, most obviously useful powers that someone could have. Sure they had to negotiate traffic legally and safely, but they killed as couriers. There'd even been a short-range teleporter on the force for a while who was great at chasing down fleeing suspects.

He chuckled at the expression on her face. "Except that I can only teleport in the range of parsecs," he said. "So if I wanted to go down the street for a bottle of milk or maybe whisk a lady friend off to Paris for a romantic evening, forget it. But if I wanted to, say, take in the moon sets on Betelgeuse XIII—no problem aside from the argon atmosphere and gas giant gravity!" He laughed.

She laughed along with him. "It must have been hard to find a way to make that kind of a power work for you," she said, remembering her dissolute college years, vacillating between visual design and forensic science.

Jack nodded in agreement. "It's not what you would call an intuitive ability. To use it without getting myself killed required a lot of study in both astronomy and intergalactic geography and politics. Soon after my powers manifested, I ignorantly went to a place where an Earth-human science hero had lost his mind and destroyed half the planet. That's not an experience I ever want to repeat."

His voice sounded like chocolate fondue; he had given this speech many times.

"But after a while, I began to make it work. There's a real market for artifacts from other planets, and I made a good chunk of money importing them." In response to her cocked eyebrow he clarified, "All legal, I promise. No alien species or irreplaceable cultural touchstones guaranteed to trigger a declaration of war, just moon rocks and strange candies and such. From the lack of lightning bolts and atomic symbols on your outfit, I'm guessing you know a thing or two about subtle powers," he said.

Syn began her carefully practiced, though always awkward, explanation of how her powers worked. He was attentive, fixing her with an electric stare throughout.

"And what do you do with that?" he asked.

"I'm a cop," she replied.

He was silent for a moment. She could hear his breathing, which had become a nervous purple, against the backdrop of the confetti sounds of the bachelorette party, which had entered the stage of the proceedings in which one of the guests was creating dirty ice sculptures out of thin air.

Finally, Jack burst into laughter. "I guess that's what I get for beginning my spiel before determining if I'm talking to someone who is a human bullshit detector, huh? 'I'm a cop,' that's funny. All right, I'll cut the crap."

Synaesthesia was not about to correct his mistaken assumption, now that things seemed to be getting so interesting. He had returned to his previous state of comfort with the conversation.

"So, you're wondering what this is all about, right? Here's the deal – I'm currently in the business of making dreams come true. Cheesy, I know, but that's just the way I think about it. I have been all over this city and all over the myriad galaxies, and I can tell you one truth – some of us get the short end of the stick. You can't go out on the street around here without seeing people who can fly or punch through buildings or turn themselves invisible, and you're left with, what, synaesthesia? What is that, really?"

Syn was a little red-orange at this comment, but this wasn't anything she hadn't heard or thought a million times before.

"Anyway, I've found a way to take your everyday heroes, the ones with really good aim, or the ones who can learn languages easily, or, yes, the ones with intergalactic teleportation abilities, I can take them and make them into small gods. Strength, flight, invulnerability, plus whatever you could do before."

This hung in the air between them for a few seconds, while Syn sorted out what she had just been told. "Wait, are you trying to sell me drugs?" She really had no luck with men.

"It's not a drug. It's a one-time injection, and the effects are permanent, at least until you get yourself transformed into a baby or zapped with a nullification beam or whatever. I generally keep the source a trade secret, but I like you, Wanda. It's Gly'k DNA – the same thing that made Sensational Girl what she is today."

Small gods was right. Sensational Girl was one of the big guns, the interplanetary security operatives who thrashed alien armadas and deflected rogues comets, all while keeping a hot career as a movie starlet going. On top of that, Jack the Business Man knew that he had a market. If he could teleport in enough of this Gly'k DNA and it didn't produce any horrible side effects...

"Can you give me a minute to process this?" Syn asked. "I'm going to head to the bar, think your offer over for a bit, and I promise I'll bring back drinks."

Jack nodded. "I can respect that. Just remember, I don't offer this to just anybody. It's for kindred spirits only."

She walked toward the bar, passing a waitress who was trying to wake up the mud monster passed out on his table, and a man and woman wearing coordinated Eisenhower jacket ensembles who had just slid into a booth. This was why she loved this city; every time she thought she had seen every bizarre costume combo imaginable, she would spot something new and strange. She slid onto a barstool and tried to shut out the colors and feelings that filled the now-crowded bar. She knew she had a bit of time to think as Gal-Chemist wouldn't be ready to take her order for a while; the bachelorette party had ordered another big round of Pyro-Shooters.

Synaesthesia would generally never consider anything like what this Business Man offered her. She still wasn't considering it; she just kept remembering a dream she once had of her wearing Sensational Girl's outfit and flying high above Neopolis. Of course, she would never wear her trademark costume, even if her skin were invulnerable to bullets, cold winds, and wolf whistles. But she did remember that dream well; she had felt powerful, secure, important. And she thought now about that day she had confronted the Commissioner and everything had gone so terribly wrong. No one would have to die for her if she couldn't be hurt.

It was a distinct temptation, but in her heart, she was a cop. She couldn't imagine herself becoming a "small god" without envisioning it for every stupid teenager, washed-up tech hero and penny-ante crook in Neopolis. The police who would be hurt, the paperwork... No, she had to turn this guy down and take him into the station for illegal importation of mutagenic substances to boot. There was no way she could call for backup or leave and try to get him later. This guy was smart, and a teleporter. He would be out of here and safe on Thanatos in a second if he caught wind of what she was planning.

She glanced around the room for inspiration and her eyes settled on the Canadian. He had five bottles of Ad Infinitum spread out on the table in front of him and seemed to have achieved a pleasant buzz, based on the sea breeze scent of his posture.

Smiling, she turned back to the bar, where the bartender was ready for her order. "One Arc Light and one Ad Infinitum, please, in identical glasses."

Gal-Chemist looked her up and down and asked, "Can I see your power registration card, please?"

Flashing her badge, Syn made sure that Jack couldn't quite see what she was doing. "Police business; that work for you?" This was really out of line, and would certainly result in a reprimand, but the force was such a mess at the moment she was willing to take the chance nothing permanently damaging would come out of it. Especially once they figured out what she had prevented from happening by bringing this man in.

The bartender whistled slowly, but proceeded to pour the drinks.

Syn made her way back to their table, pausing briefly as one of the largest women she had ever seen, wearing a helmet with impressively pointy appendages, burst through the door and strode across the room, almost bowling Syn over in the process.

When she reached their table, she set down the drinks, intuitively placing the Ad Infinitum in front of Jack. He glanced at the beers briefly before smiling up at her. "So, have you made your decision yet?" he asked.

"I want to go for it," Synaesthesia lied. She took a drink, and noticed he had not yet done the same. There was a rock-salt tentativeness about him, and she wondered if he was considering switching their drinks while her back was turned, like something out of a silly spy film. If he thought about it, he wisely determined it was no use trying it on someone with her heightened senses. She was, not for the first time, thankful for her powers. If Smax had found himself in this situation, he would probably currently be raucously slurring his way through that song about dwarves and geese she had once caught him singing in the shower.

Perhaps she seemed to have made up her mind too quickly and it was making him nervous. "But I'm a little worried. I mean, it sounds too good to be true. Are there any side effects or, or laws against that kind of thing?" She inwardly winced about bringing up the laws. Having already told him that she was a cop, she didn't want him to start thinking that he might be dealing with a narc.

His disgusted look made her heart catch; she couldn't take more failure. "Don't get me started about legalities," he said. "It's a Catch-22 designed to squelch innovation. You can't import mutagenic substances without MDA approval. You can't get approval without animal testing. But Gly'k DNA is incompatible with anything but humans - and with humans, there's no side effects. I mean, look at Sensational Girl." Without thinking about it, he took a sip of his beer and Synaesthesia hoped he wouldn't notice anything. To her, Ad Infinitum had tasted like hourglass sand hissing but she'd been told that it actually tasted like Arc Light.

"So... I'd be taking part in a scientific test," she said, keeping down her own disgust. "And if enough people take it-"

"The government will have to approve it once we've got a large enough test group!" He nodded, as if glad that she was finally stumbling to the fact that he wanted to use her as a human guinea pig. He took another, more enthusiastic drink.

"Okay, okay," she said. "Then it will be legal soon... and if there's not side effects, then I'm in."

"I'm glad to hear it!" Jack responded ebulliently, raising his.

Syn knew she really needed to keep him talking for a few more moments, so he didn't figure out what was going on. "So, how do we do this? Do you have the stuff with you or do we need to go somewhere?"

He spread his arms out, causing the drink to slosh a bit over its sides. "Details!" he said expansively. "Dontchu worry 'bout it. Firsh, I wanna take you dancing!"

The slurred words were a good sign, but Syn knew everything was going to work out just as planned when he raised his glass and proclaimed, "A toash! To the power t'make dreams come true!"

She felt a wave of guilt as she raised her glass with him, but would admit to a twinge of satisfaction as his head hit the table as he immediately passed out. Misuse of a controlled substance to take down a suspect while she was off-duty was not her finest moment to be sure, but the pleasure of taking down a man with the power to bring Neopolis's tenuous power balance to its knees could not be denied.

All eyes were on her, she knew, as she pulled out her phone to call for backup. However, she was saved a nasty crowd situation by the abrupt departure of the bachelorette party, with the soon-to-be bride leaving in the arms of the large woman Syn had seen enter a few minutes prior. The girl looked to be in about the same shape as Jack.

Syn reached Janus, and was assured she would have police presence there soon. The full weight of Neopolis P.D. was something she had going for her that Sensational Girl did not, Syn thought as she snapped her phone shut. That was good enough for her today.


End file.
